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Disclaimer: I’m afraid I don’t own Harry Potter. This is pity since I’d love to take his Potions master for a weekend… or more.

Thanks go to Southern_Witch_69 for beta reading this for me.

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Hermione sat on the front steps of the castle and cried for several minutes before finally realizing she needed to get to class. In perfect Hermione form, she straightened up and forced herself to gain control of her emotions. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the Head Girl crying. She wiped tears from her face and put on a solid expression. She took a few deep breaths. The only signs left that might give her away were her puffy eyes and scratchy voice. She hoped no one would look closely.

She walked back into the Great Hall and grabbed her book bag, which was still sitting on the bench where she’d left it. A few minutes later, she arrived at the door to her first class of the year, Advanced Transfiguration, and went to her seat. She plopped down next to Harry and sighed quietly, staring straight ahead in the hopes that nobody would notice her. Harry shifted next to her with a worried expression on his face, but she pretended not to notice. She could tell, just from her peripheral vision and how well she knew him, that he wanted her to tell him what was wrong, but knew better than to ask while she was so obviously ignoring him. After a few minutes of this, Harry gave up and began staring at the door. Ron still hadn’t shown up.

As it turned out, Ron didn’t show up at all. Hermione didn’t know what to do about him. Part of her wanted to scream at him and tell him how stupid he was for making such a mess of things, and part of her wanted to run to him and cry in his arms until he understood. It was such a disaster…

Hermione stared at her hands and felt tears welling up in her eyes again. It stung horribly, and the more she tried to fight them, the harder it became. Her face remained expressionless as tears spilled over her lower lids and down her face. She kept her breathing even and quiet – nobody had to see this.

“Miss Granger,” said Professor McGonagall’s stern voice as she looked at Hermione and noticed that her head was down – The Transfiguration teacher knew that Hermione would normally already have been copying the instructions on the board.

Hermione looked up, startled.

When McGonagall saw Hermione’s tear-streaked face, a look of concern swept over her.

“Are you all right, Miss Granger?”

Gods, how awful. This was all she needed – attention drawn to her.

“I’m fine,” she answered tonelessly. She heard a rasp in her voice and hoped nobody else had. She reached up and wiped as many tears from her face as she could in one motion and stared straight ahead. For the second time in the last hour, she felt a silence around her and wished someone would fill it.

Harry came to her rescue.

“So, Professor, what’s in store for us this year?”

McGonagall followed his lead and said, “This year is going to be very difficult, Mr. Potter. I can only hope that all of you are up to it.” McGonagall looked the room over, as though appraising the group. “I’ll be pairing you up this year. Most of your assignments will involve human transfiguration, and obviously, it’s safer to have a partner.”

At this, the rest of the class began to talk amongst themselves quietly, no doubt discussing why exactly having a partner would be ‘safer.’

Hermione was glad the silence was broken. She let out a shaky sigh that was only noticed by Harry.

“That will be quite enough talking,” said Professor McGonagall shortly.

The class fell silent.

“This year the partnerships will be as follows––” She began to read names in pairs off a parchment.

“Weasley – Parkinson.”

An indignant female scoff was heard from the back of the classroom, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Thomas – Goyle.” More scoffing.

“Finnegan – Bullstrode”

“Patil – Longbottom”

“Brown – Crabbe”

“Zabini – Potter”

That left…

“Granger – Malfoy.”

Hermione froze.

Oh, God… Continuing to avoid the Head Boy would probably prove difficult with him as her partner. This was all she needed…

She turned around and fixed her eyes on Malfoy, who looked absolutely poisonous. He gave a look that said ‘Drop dead,’ and she returned it.

She faced forward again and slumped in her seat. Harry patted her on the back and took this opportunity to ask her where Ron was.

She told him what had happened, leaving out the finer details and finished by saying, “Will you talk to him, Harry? He’s really upset, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hermione. He’ll get over it.”

Hermione glared at him. “Yeah, Harry, he’ll get over it eventually. I’m worried about him now. Way to be sensitive.”

Harry looked affronted and opened his mouth to defend himself but was cut off by McGonagall before he could get anything out.

“Right then,” barked Professor McGonagall, “pair up!”

Hermione didn’t think there was anything in world she’d rather do less.

She sighed again and stood up. Her affronting words forgotten, Harry gave her another sympathetic look and said, “Good luck.”

“You too…” she mumbled as she walked to the back of the room towards Malfoy, resigned to the worst.

*~*~*~*

Draco settled himself down in the back of the room with his arms crossed and his face set in a scowl.

“What’s with you?” Zabini asked in a blank tone.

“Piss off, Blaise,” he muttered irritably.

He stared straight ahead for several long minutes, waiting for the bell to ring and class to begin. His mind kept replaying the image of Granger and Weasley kissing over and over, and he couldn’t stop it. After a while, the door opened, and Granger walked in. Draco looked away quickly and examined his fingernails.

Stupid Mudblood and her precious friends… She was probably up there daydreaming about Weasley’s tongue in her mouth. Now that was a disgusting thought…

“Miss Granger.”

Draco’s head snapped up at the sound if their professor’s stern voice. He noticed Hermione’s did the same, then quickly looked away again.

“Are you all right?”

Why the hell was McGonagall asking that? Of course she was all right; she and her dear Weasel had just been snogging!

“I’m fine,” he heard Hermione answer, the slight hitch in her voice giving her away.

His body stiffened. She’d been crying. He could hear it. Why had she been crying? Had he heard right? Pansy sniggered next to him; she’d obviously noticed, too.

Several minutes went by. Draco listened halfheartedly to what McGonagall was saying about pairs, trying hard not to think about Granger or what reason she could have for crying, especially after that lovely little scene he’d just been witness to. He forced the thoughts away, making himself focus on his teacher instead. He wondered vaguely who his partner would be, and then she began to read off the names.

He listened as Pansy’s snigger turned into an outraged scoff when it was announced that she would be the Weasel’s partner. Draco couldn’t blame her.

More names…

More names.

And then…

“Granger – Malfoy.” Of course.

He felt loathing well up inside him, and then her eyes met his. He did his very best not to notice how red and puffy they were as he shot daggers at her.

She turned away, and he bit hard on his lip.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” purred Pansy. “I thought having Weasley for a partner was bad, but you have it much worse. I’ll make it better later.”

“Shut up, Parkinson,” he said, irritated. Merlin, would the chit ever let it go? One shag the year before to prove a point, and suddenly she was his personal sexual sycophant...

“Pair up.”

He looked up and saw Hermione walking towards him. Good. At least she had the sense to know he wasn’t going to budge an inch to get any closer to her. At least she knew who was in control here.

Pansy got up and headed towards the teacher’s desk – Draco could only assume this was to complain about Weasley’s truancy… and Weasley in general.

Hermione sunk down heavily next to him into Pansy’s vacated seat, glowering at nothing in particular and looking distracted. She looked how he felt, but all be damned if he would let her know he could relate; she was the cause of his current problems after all.

“Looks like this is your lucky day, Granger,” Draco jeered. “It’s not every day you have a legitimate excuse to get that filthy skin this close to mine.”

She turned and glared at him. “You didn’t seem to mind my skin so much when I was kneeling on top of you last week.”

That was below the belt.

“Fuck you, Granger. You don’t know anything,” he spat nastily. “You are nothing but an ugly, Mudblood slag, and if you ever touch me like that again, I will hurt you.”

“Is that supposed to scare me, Ferret Boy?” she shot back, not at all in the mood to put up with him. “You keep your hands off me and my possessions, or you’ll see just how ugly I can get.”

Damn her. Why wouldn’t she just cower?

But she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she continued her verbal assault.

“… Though, I’m quite at a loss as to why you would want my book at all. Aside from it being written by a ‘filthy Muggle’ and belonging to an ‘ugly, Mudblood slag,’ I didn’t know you knew how to read,” she ridiculed.

“Ooh, that was clever, Granger. Should I give you an award for wittiest quip of the hour? Get off your high horse,” he scoffed. “You think you’re better than me? The blood in my veins is worth a thousand times more than yours.”

He glared at her, and she had the audacity to laugh at him. It was infuriating.

“Oh, Lord. Here we go with the pureblood thing again,” she said, throwing her hands into the air exasperatedly. “Get over yourself, Malfoy. You may have noticed that your ‘pure’ blood didn’t earn you better marks than mine. Your new bedroom is not bigger than mine. There is nothing special about you. The only thing you have that I don’t is a crush on yourself.”

Draco scoffed again. “I have no doubt that I could fit twelve of your parents’ house into my Manor, Granger.”

“I don’t even know how you fit your ego into your ‘Manor,’” she said, laughing derisively.

Merlin, he hated her.

“As much as I hate to break up this display of tender comradery, I would appreciate it if the two of you would get on with today’s assignment,” McGonagall said tartly from above them.

“Sorry, Professor…” mumbled Granger.

Draco kept his mouth shut until she was gone and then turned again on Hermione, expecting her to be glaring back fiercely, ready to pick up where they’d left off.

She wasn’t. She was staring at the blackboard at the front of the class, copying down their assignment.

“Okay…” she mumbled to herself, tracing the wand movements she would need to make in the air.

Draco just stared at her. How dare she ignore him when he wanted to wring her annoying neck?

After a moment, he turned and read the instructions, too. Fine. If she wanted to play the good girl…

Not to be left behind and made to look like a slacker, Draco read the board, skimming quickly; it said they were to practice on each other. Draco grinned evilly. He was going to have an excuse to point his wand at Granger… and if something went wrong, he could call it an accident.

He stood and turned to face her. She looked up, almost daring him to make a move toward her.

“Well, if we’re practicing on each other…” he said wickedly, smirking, “I’ll go first.” He reached for his wand.

“Don’t,” she snapped menacingly.

There was an astounding amount of weight in that one word when she said it. She stood and faced him, looking fiercely into his eyes.

“I don’t have the time or energy to waste on any more games with you. If you think I’m going to stand here and let you hex me, you have another thing coming. I’ve said it twice now, and I’m going to say it one more time. You stay the fuck away from me, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco’s mouth snapped shut as he watched her turn her back on him. She cast the assigned spell on herself, and in one try, it was perfect. McGonagall had seen her do it and gave her a proud smile.

Draco felt physically sick.

As for Hermione, class wasn’t over, but she’d had enough.

“Professor, I’d like to go get a potion for my headache. May I go to the hospital wing?”

“I don’t see why not, Miss Granger, since you’ve completed the assignment.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

McGonagall gave her a worried, sympathetic look as she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the classroom without so much as a backward glance.

Draco was left with a feeling of turmoil that he didn’t even know how to begin to sort out.

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SB’s Notes: So that was four. I hope it lived up to the promised angst, but if not, there is more to come!

Thanks for reading. :-)